


Say Anything

by limelester



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Depression, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, High School, M/M, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-20
Updated: 2016-06-20
Packaged: 2018-07-16 04:06:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7251379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/limelester/pseuds/limelester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dan has a habit of making bad choices and burying his feelings, but he never meant for Phil to get caught up in any of it. Or, the time Dan cuts his hair because he's being stupid in more ways than one. A Troye Sivan songfic of THE QUIET.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Say Anything

**Author's Note:**

> This is just an edited dump of things I've experienced lately and want to find answers to thru Dan, because writing seems to be all im good at. It's inspired mostly by the song THE QUIET but the lyrics are mostly what Phil's feeling if you wondered where that fit in. Sidenote- i don't recommend cutting your hair by yourself. Just because it worked out for me and my smol brown haired friend does not mean its a stellar plan for everyone. Im super psyched that this is ready because im half way thru another chaptered fic at the moment and i needed a break. Thanks for all the hits on the last one!  
> Find the song here: https://youtu.be/vykVdJDu28A

Dan believed that everyone should fulfill their own quota. Everyone should do a certain amount of stupid, impulsive shit to fulfill the purpose of being alive before they were met with the empty void of death. For him, the last few months of forcing himself out of bed, of aching joints and tired eyes were not fulfilling that. In fact, he wasn't sure he'd ever have the strength to live like that again. Grades and lectures and questions in need of answers piled onto him without end, to the point he had pushed himself away from everything else. It was safer to deal with it all on his own.

He hated how school and love and instability was this cliche right of passage for a teenager that involved working until you dropped and crying until you couldn't anymore. He hated that the world made jokes about his suffering and how 'unaware he was of how things really worked in the real world.' He hated having to keep fighting through a life that people told him should be easy, and he hated how loud it had gotten inside his head.

He hated being away from his best friend.

But, there were things to live for. There were things to love. He had one of those, even if it was better not to see them. And when it came down to it, he knew he had to keep going. Wake up again. Keep running. Work until everything was done. Because there was always something else, even if he couldn't see it. Even if he pushed the person he loved away.

So, instead of making it all stop, instead of making the ultimate mistake, he lived his life the best he knew how. He did stupid, dangerous and sometimes senseless things to remind himself why he had this life and what it could consist of. One of the few things he turned out to be good at was making the wrong decisions.

He did it to remind himself of what that rush felt like, of adrenaline and spinning thoughts and giggled secrets. It was hard to find that anymore without Phil.

That day was a hard one. Three hours of running in gym, fielding fights with his parents, more finance homework than he could possibly recall, a boy he missed too much, and about a thousand other petty, disgusting, normal teenage things that had added up until he couldn't even breathe.

_'It's not all that much.'_

Voices that knew more, could do more than he could, echoed around him.

_'It's just school. Millions of kids have made it through the same things you're doing. Why do you get to feel sorry for yourself?'_

They belonged to almost everyone in his life- his parents and teachers and friends and even himself. But somehow, Phil was never in them.

_'Phil's too good a person. He'd never treat you like the shit you deserve.'_

He slammed the front door and slid down onto the cold wooden ground. He ripped off sweaty clothing that clung to him like a prison.

_'You've made him worry even when you tried to fix things. You're a disgusting excuse for a boyfriend.'_

His face found his hands, and he listened to the house around him instead.

It was finally quiet.

He was home alone, something that had become more and more frequent lately, and he wasn't one to complain. Silence was about all he had anymore.

_'You'd have someone else if you'd learn how to deal with your own damn life first.'_

He remembered the day before again for the hundredth time, when he'd went in for a regular haircut. They took just the same off as usual, shaved a side and trimmed the thick mess of fringe. But for once, they forgot something. Twenty five pounds for the job and they forgot to thin out the back.

To anybody else, the back of their hair being a little long wouldn't be a problem. For Dan, it just added to the million things that picked at him again and again every second of every day. His hair grew thick, and the weight of it drug his head down even farther into the depths.

Out of all the stuff he had to worry about. He knew it was trivial, stupid. He could even have gone back to ask the hairdresser that they finish it, but the thought genuinely made him gag.

He drug his fingers through it again. Every part of it felt smooth and nice and fresh- except for the long bits off his neck. It was driving him crazy.

_'About as crazy as it is to still want to see Phil? Even though your shit problems would only make him as depressed as you are?'_

He pounded up the stairs and threw open the bathroom door. He turned as much as he could in the mirror to see the back of it. Sure enough, it was fraying from hanging so low on his neck.

_'Why don't you just fucking do it?'_

He could probably ask his mom when she got home to snip it off a bit-

_'You fucking coward.'_

There was no guarantee that it would turn out well-

_'Then suffer for another month. You're already good at it.'_

He pounded his hand on the side of the sink and let out a weak scream. Hot tears flowed down his face. There weren't even any words in it, just hate and exhaustion and emotion. It was so immature and childish, something rational people wouldn't have let themselves do.

_'Rational people would forget about Phil and realize it's best for you to stay away from him.'_

But he was damn sick of being told his emotions were wrong.

He was sick of being told that everything he fought so hard to do was simple, even insignificant to everyone else.

He was sick of being alone because no one else felt the way he did.

_'You're right, no one else gets overwhelmed by such small things.'_

His hand was turning on the cold faucet before he knew it. He felt prickles in his scalp moments later, and discovered that he had put his hair under the water.

A brush evened out only the strands on the top of his neck, leaving the rest on his forehead a mess.

He didn't even feel himself open the drawer. All of his limbs, his ears and his eyes were numb. If he didn't do this now, he never would.

The scissors were just regular house scissors. They were larger than barber scissors and dirtier than they probably should be. But he opened them anyways, using all the strength in his hand to do so. All he needed was a chance, a fight to fight, and he could make it.

They lined up with his neck. He watched his face in the mirror. His pulse raced. His left hand found the hair and lined it up in the scissors' blade, blood pounding in his ears.

His eyes squeezed shut and he willed himself to fight. He needed to do something loud, something stupid to stay alive.

He slammed the blades together.

A small snipping sound filled the air, and wet chunks of hair hit his back. He felt a weight being lifted off with each one.

It's not like anyone would notice that he'd done it. No one payed enough attention to see that. It was a fraction of an inch off an already short haircut after all, and it was left too long. But to Dan, it meant everything.

He felt along the new edges with his fingers. The clean line, the split ends that his bulky scissors caused, they were his. He controlled it, and no one could change it. He went again to line the scissors up for a second cut. This time, he watched his arms move behind him with wide eyes as the snipping sound came again. He could feel the light tug on his hair as it was severed from him, once and for all.

It was a purely instinct move done out of the inspiration from the most classic of movie troupes. It wasn't even that much hair.

But it was his way of fighting back. His way of screaming out into the pool of things that clawed at his mind that he would not go quietly.

He felt all of it now, the line pretty much seemed like it was straight. He laid the scissors back down and ran into his room to grab his mirror off the wall.

He pointed it to the back of his head in the bathroom mirror, like they had in the salon the day before to ask if he liked it. That time, he lied because he was too tired to say otherwise.

This time, he smiled, and felt the knot in his chest start to loosen.

He dried it out and looked again. It was even better now without all the water. It wasn't perfect by any means- and it probably looked worse to someone who looked at it directly rather than with two mirrors.

But it was his. It was his to control and his fault alone. It felt amazing.

His phone buzzed. It was just down the stairs and was rattling through the wooden floor, even through his discarded jean pockets.

He ran down to get it, feeling lighter on his feet now than when he came up. Maybe it was because of the haircut, maybe because he didn't plan on ignoring the call this time.

He hadn't answered Phil for days, weeks; he'd forgotten how long. He avoided him in the halls and didn't look him in the eye when he took the trash out and felt him staring from across the street.

Dan needed to be alone. It's what he deserved. If he'd have stayed around Phil, the boy would have broken his heart anyways. No one wants to be around someone so grim.

_'That's exactly what you deserve. Focus on your schoolwork and let him live his life.'_

He was so bright, so hopeful and excited. Every time Dan felt something sad tug at his heart, Phil's glowing blue eyes would darken, and the smile he'd come to rely on would hide.

Who could live while knowing they caused that? Who could continue to be the one that chased that smile away?

He slid the phone open. He barely made it before the ring ended.

"Hello?"

The other line gasped, barely audible.

"I didn't think you'd answer."

Silence hung in the static. Neither dared to speak first.

Dan hung up, tears back in his eyes and fire in his throat. He threw his clothes back on, disregarded any shoes and raced out the door.

Phil's house was across the street and two doors down. He was already on his porch, back slumped, dark hair covering sullen eyes that gazed down at his shoes.

Dan felt the warm summer breeze sweep through his hair and roll off his neck as he ran down the street. His breathing pulled in and out roughly, and his feet pounded down the rocky stretch.

Phil didn't have a chance to look up before Dan had thrown himself around him. He was retching with tears now, all those feelings stirring inside him and filling up the air.

Phil held him just as he had a million times before, and let his red, swollen eyes look past Dan's shoulder into the orange and purple sunset that tore through the clouds and painted them into a thousand patterns.

"Are you back for good?" Phil whispered after some time.

Dan gulped in breaths and felt his tears soak into Phil's plaid shirt.

"I don't know."

Dan's voice was choppy.

"Why did you leave me?"

Phil's words were small now, and Dan's heart began to ache like it had before. He continued.

"Was it something I did? If it was I.... Please tell me. I just need to know. Please, say anything."

He pleaded and drew in shaky breaths as he felt tears roll to match Dan's.

"Anything would hurt less than the quiet."

Dan drew back and looked him in the eyes, arms still wrapped around Phil's shoulders.

"I hate being the reason you're sad."

"Why would you make me sad-?"

He squeezed his eyes shut and let all the awful, petty thoughts go.

"Because nothing good ever happens to me, except for you. Everything hurts, and when you see that, I know it hurts you too. I can't make you go through that out of pity. You deserve someone who's got just as much going on for them as you do. And it's not me."

When no response came, he slowly opened his eyes and glanced to the ground, and slinked away from Phil's arms.

A hand found its way under Dan's chin. It turned his face back, and he focused his eyes.

Phil's eyes were gleaming, but not in the way they usually do. They brimmed with a flame of desperation, of longing and resilience.

"When I told you that I wanted you to be mine, I meant it. I promised I'd be here for anything, didn't I?"

Dan nodded.

"Then what do you think changed? You think I wouldn't do anything to help, you think I wouldn't hang onto every word you said no matter what?" His tone was gentle but his words tumbled fast. "Because if you think any of that it's not true, you didn't understand me. I don't wanna walk away Dan. I just want you, no matter how much I need to do to help you."

Dan opened his mouth to form words, but none came. Phil knew them all anyways. He knew Dan inside and out, how could he ever forget? There was no one else who would hear him the way Phil did, and here he was pretending he could stay away.

Dan didn't remember making the choice to lean in. He didn't remember Phil doing it either. Maybe it's because as their lips brushed for the first time in ages, in the lightest touch, they were finally on the exact same page.

Dan slid his arms back around Phil's neck to stay balanced. His head was spinning with the sudden nearness he'd been drained of. They could feel the others warmth all around them, reminding each how little anything mattered when they were together. Dan sighed when his nose brushed the other's, and the kiss deepened.

Phil couldn't hold his longing any further and pulled Dan closer, arms encircling him. More than anything, he just wanted him as near as possible. He never wanted to go without Dan again, the thought made everything inside him break, but if he needed to leave, Phil at least had to make his goodbyes.

He found the nape of Dan's neck and threaded his fingers through his soft hair to make sure he wouldn't budge just yet.

Dan's mind was reeling in comfort and certainty. Nothing else had ever chased all of it away like being with Phil had. He gladly let it all sink away into static; until he felt the tug of Phil's fingers in the freshly cut strands at the top of his spine.

Dan pulled only a fraction of an inch away. "I'm sorry."

Phil's heart swelled. "So, you're not leaving again?"

Dan shook his head ever so slightly and rested his lips on Phil's nose. "As long as you won't."

Phil smiled a real smile for the first time in weeks. He threaded his fingers deeper into Dan's hair lazily, and let his words turn back to how he would normally talk with Dan. There wasn't a second to lose after all, because he wanted to be with Dan, making him happy for every single one.

"Have you had a haircut?" He ask with a giggle. "It feels so nice."

Dan's smile spread into a laugh, and he pushed it back into a kiss for a moment, before lingering near him again, wanting to burn the sight of blue-y green eyes with golden flecks into his memory.

"I'm so glad you like it."


End file.
